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(I wrote this thing about an year ago for my English class. The number is just one essay thing, doesn't mean anything in this text. Thank you. Enjoy. Please.)

12. A Letter from Death Row

Dear mom and dad,

I’m
so sorry I wasn’t that kind of son you wanted. I did my mistakes, some
of them too big. Don’t blame my friends, I was the one to make the
decision to kill him. They tried to stop me but I didn’t listen. Mom
always said I’m an old oaf who does whatever he wants. Kind of funny it
led me to this point.

I just want to say I love you. So much that
it hurts. I want you to know, I always wanted to be perfect. It just
turned out and I lost my conciousness of right and wrong. You were the
best parents boy could have, I just wasn’t the best boy parents could
have. I regret all the things I’ve said, did or left undone.Tell my
sisters I love them. Lianna, you’re way too beautiful to waste your time
with idiots like me. Brittany, you’re the brightest star our theater
could have, but don’t let your intelligence go waste. I love you both
and now you know how to help your own sons if they end up being like me.

When
they told me I had two options, poison or electrocution, I chose
electrocution, because it will hurt. I know that, and I want it. You may
think I’ve gone mad or something, but I’m not. Mom, I hurted him and
his family so much. It’s unfair to you that you have to lose someone
too, but it makes victim’s family feel better. Dad, you always said big
boys don’t cry. I’m a man now, and I cry because I fear facing death
alone. I’m sorry you can’t meet me in Heaven, but murderers and pagans
go to Hell.

(Sorry I haven't been doing anything with this blog! I've been mostly busy and I haven't had anything to say. Now I want to be honest with the question 'How are you?' because I feel like I need to tell someone how I feel. So here it goes.)

Sometimes I wonder if my stepfather's only joy is making me cry. He insults me, doesn't let me finish my sentences and acts like I'm a five-year-old girl who doesn't understand anything. He can't accept the fact that I may be right sometimes.

And for the first time ever, I'm actually able to accept the fact that the only thing that matters about me is my weight.

Mom doesn't ask me how I am today or how is it going. Instead she asks me have I been eating a lot lately and when I'm going to start losing weight. She doesn't want me to eat my depression pills because 'they're making you fat'. My symptoms of depression are the features of my laziness, they both think.

There are days I sit on the floor of my living room having a panic attack because I don't eat my medicine. I scratch my feet, my face and I bite my hands. I can't move, because I'm afraid that someone's gonna kill me. My hallucional panic attacks are getting worse and I have to manage my own.

There are days I want to break every mirror I see just to avoid my face. My face, which has red scratching marks and pimples. On those days I look in the mirror and see a monster.

Every day I avoid full-body mirrors. I do 't want to see how huge I am. But sometimes I get stuck in front of that kind of mirror and can't do anything but think 'how anyone could ever love someone as fat as you? How?! No one likes a whale-sized girl'.

There are days I don't eat. Days when I feel like I don't deserve it. Days when I enjoy having my stomach growl and ache for food. Days when I throw up on purpose. Days when all I can think of is getting thin.

Every day I think how pretty I would look as a glass skeleton. A girl who doesn't have any fat in her body.

Every day I see my thick thighs and bloated stomach. I want a thigh gap. I want to my stomach be like a pit instead of mountain.

Some days I feel myself okay. Those days are very rare, but on those days I accept and celebrate myself.

Mostly I just look at the mirror disgusted and wanting to cut and carve all the fat away.

But every morning and evening I pray. I pray for gods to help me in my situation and Goddess and Frigga soothe me to sleep. Every day is a fight, but in every prayer I thank them how much they put effort to lift weight off my shoulders. I'm thankful for them and the Creator of my life, but sometimes this life is way too hard to live.

I need someone to rely on, but in the same time I don't want to rely on anyone. I may be devastated at a times, but before anything I'm a slytherin and I should be able to stand on my own. Slytherins don't stumble and fall, they are independent. I don't trust anyone but Simo.

But he's like the other ones. Away and not interested. He's too busy to think of me and call me. He's the only one whose call would light up my whole day, whose text can make my day, but he doesn't do it, because he doesn't care. Just like the others.

I am going to stand on my own. I must not need anyone. I have only me to trust and rely on.